Beautiful Monster
by Morninglight
Summary: A short, evil songfic I had to get out of my head before it poisoned me. Alistair falls in love with the wrong woman and pays the price. Evil!F!Cousland/Alistair, set to Ne-Yo's 'Beautiful Monster'.


Note: One-shot. I felt like writing a story about an evil f!Cousland. I hope you enjoy. Decidedly AU; I reckon the game ought to have the option I'm picking in this one… Set to Ne-Yo's 'Beautiful Monster'. BioWare owns Dragon Age; Ne-Yo owns the lyrics. Sex and some coarse language.

…

_All my life _

_And the hereafter_

_I've never seen_

_Seen one like you_

Alistair stifled a gasp as Duncan's latest recruit, a noblewoman from Highever, stepped into a patch of late afternoon sunlight like the natural spotlight had been created just for her. Chocolate-brown hair was coiled into a combined braided crown and chignon, her large emerald-green eyes sparkling above a dainty nose and full rose-coloured lips in a face as sweet as a kiss tasting of honey on a summer's afternoon. She wore sleek drakeskin-and-dragonbone articulated plate custom-designed by Master Wade (every competent warrior knew the master's work when they saw it) for her tall, willowy body, the enamel black, green and gold in the colours of Highever… which just happened to suit her splendidly. An amused smile with a knowing edge curved her mouth as the ex-templar bantered with a mage until the Enchanter stormed off to confront the Revered Mother who'd dispatched Alistair with the message. He gulped, trying to hide the expression, as he went over to greet a woman he knew had already stolen his heart.

_You're a knife_

_Sharp and deadly_

_And it's me_

_That you cut into_

Her name was Rowena Cousland and she barely survived the massacre of her family by Arl Rendon Howe. When Alistair had quietly confessed his royal ancestry on the road to Redcliffe, she nodded sympathetically and patted his arm comfortingly. Those fingers, light as a feather and soft as silk, slid across his flesh in a manner which made the hairs on his forearm stir and his skin tingle. He had seen those same fingers deftly pick a lock or pocket or calmly wield the knife which slit an Antivan assassin's throat. But he knew that Rowena had become the sharp, deadly weapon she was – all grace and deadly finesse – because of her past. Alistair knew that deep inside, she was no different to any other noble maiden from the tales: sweet and lovely and kind.

_But I don't mind_

_In fact I like it_

_Though I'm terrified_

_I'm turned on but scared of you_

It was somewhere between Denerim and Redcliffe on the search for Andraste's ashes that Alistair confessed he cared for Rowena. He was terrified that this elegant, sophisticated creature would laugh at him and his stableboy manners. But no, she hadn't: instead she had guided him through his first kiss as the snows began to fall, her lips tasting of honey and mint from the tea she insisted on keeping in camp for herself and Wynne. Rowena was so knowing and wise, always with a ready word of comfort and affection; it never occurred to Alistair that she might be a consummate actress or that she kept him in camp, taking the face-crushing golem, the evil witch and the grim qunari murderer with her because they shared her preference for decisive, self-centred actions. He obeyed her because she was born and trained to lead; he trusted her because he loved her, even after the soul-crushing heartbreak of Goldanna rejecting him. Surely she loved him; she agreed with him on everything he said, showing the tender vulnerable woman behind the façade of the stern, pragmatic commander.

_She's a monster_

_Beautiful monster_

_Beautiful monster_

_But I don't mind_

Even when she'd slaughtered the werewolves on behalf of the Dalish and Alistair had argued against it, he loved her. Even after she'd told him that the qunari Sten, the bard Leliana and the Circle mage Wynne had perished in the fight with a High Dragon at Haven in pursuit of Andraste's Ashes, he believed her. Why wouldn't he? He loved her, she loved him, they were both Grey Wardens fighting to save Ferelden. He looked forward to the day when the archdemon was dead and they could settle down somewhere and rebuild the Order…

_And I need her_

_Said I need her_

_Beautiful monster_

_But I don't mind_

Alistair's fingers were trembling as he reached for the drawstring of Rowena's nightgown; the knotted silk ribbon undid easily and the garment, a heavy thing of jade-green samite, fell from her slim body easily. The bastard prince's eyes drank in the small, perfect breasts and the curve of her hips greedily as she guided his fingers down to the nub which made her arch and scream. She wasn't a virgin but he didn't mind; at least she knew more than he. Rowena was hot and tight and wet as he sheathed himself; she groaned and whispered something huskily in his ear. He tried to recall what it was (something like "a farewell gift") before the instincts of a healthy male body in its prime took over and he began to thrust… In the red haze of lust and love, he whispered that he loved her and would she marry him; something flashed in her emerald-green eyes before she smiled and murmured of course and did something which made him lose his train of thought…

_In her eyes_

_There's love and fire_

_In my heart_

_She's burning through_

"I, lords and ladies of Ferelden, make this decision…" The entire Landsmeet chamber was on tenterhooks as Rowena Cousland, slayer of Loghain and currently the highest-ranking noblewoman in Ferelden aside from the Queen, cast her vote as Teyrna of Highever. She'd slaughtered Rendon Howe like the mad dog he was, united the races to form an army to combat the Blight, and won the heart of Prince Alistair… whom everyone expected she would make King so she could be Queen.

They were half-right. "I will rule alone," she declared, emerald-green eyes daring the cowed and dispirited nobility to say otherwise. Arl Eamon blanched and swayed as Anora fell into a true swoon so soon after collapsing to her knees at the side of her father's corpse. The Queen had betrayed her father on the assurance that the Teyrna of Highever would support her bid for the throne.

Alistair couldn't help his grin. Rowena would be a fantastic Queen and he'd happily play Prince-Consort or whatever so he could remain a simple Grey Warden. His heart nearly burst with love for this sharp, beautiful creature that now approached him and the remaining companions Morrigan, Oghren and her mabari Diamond as they sat comfortably in one of the Palace sitting rooms.

"I… have bad news to impart," she said solemnly. "Alistair… we must break up."

"Wh-what?" he stuttered as she examined him minutely with hard eyes like she did the jewels or gowns she bought. "Wh-why?"

"Because it is well known Grey Wardens cannot conceive a child," she said with deadly softness. "I am… sorry. I will have to take another husband… and because I must be seen as above approach, I cannot keep you as a lover. I am truly sorry."

He agreed. What else could he do? She was right about everything. But his heart broke and the world lost its brightness then and there. And when he left, sniffling softly as tears rolled down his cheeks, he heard her laughing at a jab Morrigan had made about his lack of spine…

_But I don't mind_

_In fact I like it_

_Though I'm terrified_

_I'm turned on but scared of you_

Despite his broken heart, he'd fucked Morrigan at her request so they could both live; now they stood on the top of Fort Drakon with the archdemon lying almost dead before them, her emerald-green eyes hard and lovely as the beast before them. "Take the deathblow, Alistair!" she cried out to him. "You're a hero; you deserve it."

She'd given him this much, perhaps as a pittance to the wreck that was his soul. Alistair had taken to alcohol as a means of coping with the pain he saw every time she conferred with Vaughn Uriens, the Arl of Denerim and her betrothed, joining Oghren in his drinking binges. If Duncan could see him now, he bitterly reflected, the Warden-Commander would be disgusted with what he'd become. But he'd finish this Blight and then go somewhere far away like Weisshaupt to get away from the beautiful terrible creature who owned his heart, shattered as it was.

Light and energy filled him as he pulled the greatsword through the archdemon's head. Just as he fell into blackness, he felt a short sharp sting like a needle before his limbs cramped and his heart seized. "Goodbye Alistair," he heard Rowena from a great distance, "I promise I'll give you a grand funeral. Thank you for everything you've done for me."


End file.
